al servitude
for five years. A very touching appeal was made for him to the jury
by a learned serjeant, who declared that his client was to lose his
wife and to be punished with extreme severity as a bigamist, because
it was found to be impossible to bring home against him a charge of
murder. There was, perhaps, some truth in what the learned serjeant
said, but the truth had no effect upon the jury. Mr. Emilius was
found guilty as quickly as Phineas Finn had been acquitted, and was,
perhaps, treated with a severity which the single crime would hardly
have elicited. But all this happened in the middle of the efforts
which were being made to trace the purchase of the bludgeon, and
when men hoped two or five or twenty-five years of threatened
incarceration might be all the same to Mr. Emilius. Could they have
succeeded in discovering where he had bought the weapon, his years
of penal servitude would have afflicted him but little. They did not
succeed; and though it cannot be said that any mystery was attached
to the Bonteen murder, it has remained one of those crimes which are
unavenged by the flagging law. And so the Rev. Mr. Emilius will pass
away from our story.

There must be one or two words further respecting poor little
Lizzie Eustace. She still had her income almost untouched, having
been herself unable to squander it during her late married life,
and having succeeded in saving it from the clutches of her pseudo
husband. And she had her title, of which no one could rob her, and
her castle down in Ayrshire,--which, however, as a place of residence
she had learned to hate most thoroughly. Nor had she done anything
which of itself must necessarily have put her out of the pale of
society. As a married woman she had had no lovers; and, when a widow,
very little fault in that line had been brought home against her. But
the world at large seemed to be sick of her. Mrs. Bonteen had been
her best friend, and, while it was still thought that Phineas Finn
had committed the murder, with Mrs. Bonteen she had remained. But
it was impossible that the arrangement should be continued when it
became known,--for it was known,--that Mr. Bonteen had been murdered
by the man who was still Lizzie's reputed husband. Not that Lizzie
perceived this,--though she was averse to the idea of her husband
having been a murderer. But Mrs. Bonteen perceived it, and told her
friend that she must--go. It was most unwillingly that the wretched
widow